


Look At Me Fly

by Bluesday



Category: Godless (TV 2017)
Genre: "look at me fly" by Stoney LaRue, ...Pretty much western Newtmas lolz, And loved it, But I HATE what they did to Whitey, Cause yeehaw bitch, I have high school HH, I watched the final literally a few hours ago, It legitimately scares me how underrated Whitey is, Louise was a cute character, M/M, Please don’t read and complain about spoilers, Post-Canon Fix-It, Slight Dylmas, The OC is Dylan O’Brien lmao, Title and chapter titles are a song, WHITEY LIVES, What the fuck else matters?, dylmas - Freeform, lol it’s 2AM on a Monday, meaningful tags may be added later :), there’s obvi gonna be spoilers lol, until then..., up until the end when she literally didn’t give a FUCK
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:20:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26475556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluesday/pseuds/Bluesday
Summary: Whitey is often mistaken for being nothing more than a headstrong boy. However, when the sun rises on the lonesome town of La Belle, They get a taste of Frank’s wrath... little did the infamous priest know that his underestimation of a blind sheriff’s deputy, would be the day he faced his God.
Relationships: Alice Fletcher/Roy Goode, Bill Mcnue & Whitey, Callie Dunne/Mary Agnes McNue, Mary Agnes Mcnue & Whitey, Roy Goode & Whitey Winn, Thomas Brodie-Sangster/Dylan O'Brien, Whitey Winn/Original Character
Comments: 17
Kudos: 12





	1. High above the water

Maybe the boy was sure of himself.

A little too much for his own good sometimes, he’d admit. 

But he knew that there was no way in hell he’d back down from a fight. Especially not one involving a one armed bastard stepping foot on his,  _ Whitey’s  _ turf. 

Before the fight, he remembered having a very grim conversation with Maggie Agnes, the closest person he had to a parent since the mining incident. Whitey continued his consistent boasts with optimism and nonchalant; however, whenever he noticed the subtle layer of water weighing down the bottom of her eyes, he grew silent. 

“ Ma’am?” 

The vulnerability truly scared him, made his confidence waver, but all the same make him determined to make sure this woman come out of this damned battle with a routine remark of carefreeness. The woman’s constant use of a certain curser, the way she always carried, even when she slept... He couldn’t help but think about how the woman tearing up in front of him is the same, strong, grumpy, and tomboyish woman who took him under his wing when Bill "lost his shadow". 

Christ, he missed Bill. 

He really wished that he was here. 

Whitey always wanted to ride out next to his idol’s side. Ride or die, with the Bill Mcnue. It was something straight out of one of Greg’s outlandish stories. And he wanted that to be it. Bill would always say, if he was going to go down, he was going to do it protecting the people he grew to love... at least, that’s what he used to say. 

For all Whitey knew, he could be dead under Frank’s boot right now. 

God he owed so much to his sister. The woman in front of him let out a prideful sniffle.” Whitey, you gotta do somethin’ for me.” Attempting to lighten the atmosphere around him, he let out a confident grin.” Oh, I’m sure whatever it is ma’am, I can certainly-“ 

“ Shut the hell up and listen boy.” 

“ Yes ma’am.” 

Clearing her throat, she gazed into the boy’s onyx eyes.” I don’t know how it’s gonna go today. I really don’t, Whitey. But I do know, that you ain’t gonna do nothin’ stupid-like.” The deputy pinched his lips together in a thin line in thought.” Maggie... I- I plan to fight.” She nodded.” I know that. But, no theatrics. This is Frank Griffin. He’s not like those two men outside the saloon. He’s a murderer. One that’s out for Roy too. Which means, he’s gonna be one stubborn son of a bitch.” 

There was another name Whitey grew familiar with. 

Mr. Ward, or better known as _Roy Goode_.

He grew, very close to the older man. He wouldn’t forget one day in particular, when Roy randomly decided to ride into town just to offer him on a ride through the nearby mountains. He travelled and spent time with that man. Whitey remembered the moment that he accidentally called him "pa". And... if he squinted, he’d remember the moment the man stumbled on his words and called him "sonny". 

He’d die for a man that was honorable. 

Which is why he’d fight... well at least one of the reasons. 

“ Yeah, yeah... I know ma’am. I’m sorry to worry you. I’ll try my best to not be a... a jackass.” He finished with a dry chuckle, making the woman let out an amused grin. Subtly wiping the bottom of her eyes, she exhaled through her lips.” That’s a relief. We’re havin’ supper at Charlotte’s place tonight.”

“ I-“

“ And you’re comin’ Whitey Winn. You can bet your fuckin’ _parents_ on it.” That remark made him fall back in his chair with an exaggerated sigh. After a few more moments of silence, he lifted his hat to reveal a familiar cocky smile.” Don’t worry Mags, I’ll be there.” 

“ Good on you, Whitey.” 

A few hours later, he was visited by an anxious Louise, and her little sibling. Alice Fletcher as well, who he had also grew close to recently. Christ... now that he had a moment to think, he had a lot to lose... 

But a hell of a lot to fight for. 

_ For Maggie Agnes. _

_ For Roy Goode. _

_ Bill Mcnue. _

_ and Alice Fletcher. _

All of the people who cared about a cocky teenager that was burdened with responsibility a little too early, even for someone as headstrong as him. 

And so he’d fight. 

He’d fight, until there was nothing left to. 

For everyone who he loved. 

Solemnly placing his buckskin cowboy hat upon his head, he glanced at the door outside. They were here. He knew it. And they’d get to know he was too. Hearing a dozen horses’ hooves come to a halt outside his door, he took a deep breath and glanced at himself on the mirror. Messing with his hair some, he chuckled to himself, speaking aloud.” They gon’ regret showin’ up here.” 

Because he, was _Whitey_ , _the Whitey Winn of La Belle._

Flicking his pistols about his fingers, Whitey grinned before a conversation flashed in the back of his mind. 

  
  


_ “ Pa, will you ever teach me how to shoot?”  _

_ “ Maybe someday, White. But... a good man doesn’t have to go in with just his arms alone. He can talk, get to know the fight before hand...”  _

_ “ A good man doesn’t have to kill nobody.”  _

  
  


Slowly, the grin faded to something a little darker. Swallowing back the sudden butterflies that swarmed his lungs, he slowly placed the gun back into his belt.

_ Alright. This is it. Your time to shine, Whitey. Show this bastard what you’re made of... For Bill.  _

Opening the wooden door to the jailhouse, his eyes slowly adjusted to the bright filter outside the room. Stepping confidently into the light, he opened his mouth to speak before he was met face to face with thirty men on horseback. 

And then Whitey felt a- horrible, horrible feeling. It was as if a rattler was slowly constricting his body, while it’s venom traveled through his now ice cold blood. He couldn’t move, think, or even blink. All he felt was fire. Like the rays of the New Mexican sun, slowly showering his body with a familiar heat. But this one, far more poisonous. Finally processing what had happened, he glared down at the knife directly planted at the center of his chest. 

He didn’t draw a gun

He didn’t even get to put in a word.

He- 

**_ I.. _ **

“ Damn shame. It’s a waste of a clean knife.”  Frank Griffin chuckled darkly, making Whitey’s eyes widen with fury before they glazed over in numbness. 

The boy’s limp body fell to the wood below, only after the blade was carelessly ripped from his chest. The man with the dagger scoffed, before wiping the knife off with the deputy’s own uniform. His, damn, uniform. Wiped with his own blood. It felt disgraceful, disgusting, humiliating. Despite feeling nothing but death, his ears flooded with nothing but the sound of the Battle for La Belle. 

Those bastards. 

To think that they could take him down so easily. 

He hadn’t even gotten the chance to raise a gun. 

They... they would’ve given a  _ man  _ the chance to draw his firearm.

But in their merciless eyes, Whitey was nothing but a boy forced into a war he couldn’t win. A single tear streamed down from his right eye to the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t save them... all he could do was hear their efforts. The woman that both despised and loved him so much. Despite the constant snippets about his cockiness, his stubbornness, laziness, no one could say that Whitey wasn’t apart of La Belle. Hell, he was the very face of their hope. 

He constantly brought light and happiness upon those who needed it. He saved them as much as they saved him. 

And maybe someday, he could rest peacefully on that thought. 

But not today. 

Slowly, he rose from the ground with a shaky pair of hands gripping the wood beneath him.” C’mon Whitey...  ** C’mon ** !” He roared out, faltering to catch himself on the railing of the Jailhouse porch that he’s spent days at a time sitting in a now broken rocking chair. 

Wiping the blood that lightly oozed from the side of his mouth, he placed one hand on his bloodied chest, and adjusted his hat in the nearby broken window. His vision funneled to a fishbowl, he drowned out the high pitched ringing in his ears for the sake of killing that son of a bitch. 

He heard the battle slowly grow quiet through the constant gunshots and whatnot. Still trapped in the dust that encapsulated the air of La Belle, he noted that the fire helped clear out the blindness in his eyes. When two familiar men made their appearances at the front, Whitey staggered from the dust behind him with a intimidating fatigue. Waiting patiently for his time to strike out the upcoming men, he was a silent shot. A bullet from a ghost. The outlaws that were falling like doves under a shotgun, had no clue who was shooting at them. It was only until the dust cleared that Whitey was face to face with-

_ Him. _

The woman of La Belle was nothing short of sobbing out of pure shock and relief that the deputy was still alive. Let alone with a cocked revolver pressed against the back of an unsuspecting Frank Griffins’s skull.

“ You thought you’d get ridda’ me, huh? Maybe I’m not a "waste of a clean knife" after all.” He spoke with a crimson smirk, making the infamous preacher at gunpoint exhale through the nose.” I’ve seen my death,boy. You’re not it.” 

“ Name’s not  _boy_. ”

_** BANG ** _

“ It’s Whitey Winn.” 

When the man fell to the ground, all two familiar faces in front could do is stare in shock at the boy’s stubborn will to live. And not only that,

Kill, _the_ , Frank Griffin.

Whitey chuckled softly at the two men in front of him who he cared so much for, before meeting with the Earth below. Clouded and distant shouting reached his ears before a comforting black flooded in through the back of his mind. 

_ He ain’t gonna mess with La Belle again. Ain’t no one.  _

Whitey groaned at the sound of a teacup lightly making contact with the partnering plate below it. Charlotte’s place. He could tell from it’s majestic iron and brick walls. Quiet conversation in the background of his vibrant awakening resurfaced and focused.

“ -been asleep for two days, Maggie. The boy had a knife to the chest! He is a hero, but I doubt he’d want us to let him rot in a bed.” 

Whitey slowly sat up, wanting to make a dramatic appearance in conversation, he felt his smile widen when he saw Roy Goode sleeping in the chair next to Whitey’s nightstand. He’d been here, with Whitey. That made him feel a familiar love and admiration... fatherhood. Even if not that, he was glad to have Roy Goode as a friend. And it seemed that Maggie was fighting, per usual... with Charlotte no less. He supposed things were back to the way they always are. And that was a wild relief. 

All that was left now was a- 

“ _Fuck you_ , Charlotte.” 

There we go. Now it was home. 

“ Whitey,  killed  Frank Griffin. It’s been hell trying to keep that damn reporter from coming up with questions for him. Hell, he’s already posted some damn article about his heroics...”

“ So I’m famous now? Bet that bastard wishes he talked with me in that saloon now.” 

The two women instantaneously whirled around to face a smug Whitey. The voice made Roy stir, his eyes trained on onyx.” My _God_ boy, you’re as stubborn as a blind ass.” 

“ I’ve met onna those. They’re a pain to move around.” He joked sarcastically, only to look up to see Maggie’s tearful expression.” You didn’t make it for dinner on time, Whitey.” 

“ Sorry, ma’am.” 

“ But...” Charlotte chimed in, a handkerchief dabbing the border of her eye.” You’re here now. On behalf of La Belle, Whitey... thank you. And- Dammit... it’s a miracle you’re awake.” She spoke waveringly, making Roy laugh emotionally.” Amen. Whitey, I hope this doesn’t make you think you’re gettin’ some damn metal.” 

“ Wasn’t countin’ on it. It’d prefer a statue.” He shot back, making the three exhale all the same.” I liked him better when he was dyin’.” Maggie snarked, despite the large weight reliever from her chest. Whitey was... her son. She couldn’t imagine being able to grow out of the habit of bringing over lunch. She’d knock on the door to an empty room of the ghost of a boyish deputy. 

But nay.

Whitey, was alive. 


	2. Never Think Twice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whitey goes through the highs and lows of injury recovery. Celebrating his healing, he meets a mysterious stranger over a few drinks.

Whitey had been in bed for three whole days after he woke up. 

He was caught at least seven different times trying to sneak out and help repair the town. But every time he did, it always ended with Mary Agnes nearly dragging him back up to Charlotte’s loft. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t hurting. The deputy had to fight off a deadly fever for forty eight hours before he managed to walk again. The infection from the knife was clear enough to debunk that the knife thrown into his chest was indeed, not "clean".

Nonetheless, he told himself throughout the agonizing breaths for air, that he survived that? A little cold wouldn’t be the death of him either. 

And he did just that. 

It took every sort of argument to make Roy not comprise himself to call for a doctor. He had faith in the Ladies of La Belle, and he had faith in himself too. Whitey didn’t need no damn doctor to get out of bed. Just the occasional soup, and a lot of love.

And by God, the amount of grace the women gave him was enough to make his heart fly. He wasn’t used to this sort of care. Only with a few of the locals he got to know on a personal level. 

Roy had been there alongside Maggie the entire time. Throughout the highs and lows of his recovery. It was... a terrifying experience to say the least. Whitey was every bit of tough they could ask for in a survivor, but this wasn’t a buck off the wrong horse... It came to the point that Roy called the Paiute woman to do her incantations and such on the boy when he was nearly gasping with every feverish _breath_. 

Maggie has been the one to make Whitey broth the way he liked it. The trick was adding a hint of rosemary. It always added a certain tang that’d make the blond’s face melt into a rare relaxed state. When Whitey started to get better, he started to process the things that were and weren’t there.

Like Bill.

He didn’t ask. He didn’t need to. He knew he wasn’t there for a reason. And he’d respect that... as he’s always done. Still, he could feel that pathetic _ache_ in his heart when he’d wake up to a room without who he thought as his mentor. 

And finally, day seven... A week since Whitey saw the snout of the devil himself, and shot him a third nostril. He returned to La Belle. Dressing himself in his now washed uniform, which, fairly enough, felt odd without that familiar musk of outdoors, he stepped into the light of the New Mexico sun. 

Only to be _yanked_ by the collar back inside.

“ Maggie what the he-“

“ Shut up Whitey.” 

“ Yes ma’am...”

Roy sighed aside from the woman’s shoulder.” The reporter. He’s gonna ask you questions.” Whitey couldn’t help the grin that slowly started to inch onto his face.” Shouldn’t he? I can see the headlines "Hero deputy, her-“ He stuttered on his complex wording, knowing only the simples due to his lack of education.” Hero...” 

“ Heroically?”

“ —Heroically, saves the small- no. _Beautiful_ town of La Belle.” He exasperated with his hands presenting an image that only he alone could see, making the two facing him grow grim.” Whitey, there ain’t gonna be no headlinin’.” Maggie added softly. The deputy blinked.” _Seriously_?” 

“ Seriously.” 

The gunslinger’s eyebrows furrowed, making him slump on the doorframe.” Might I ask why?” The question made Roy Goode chime in gently.” The world is about to know that the most infamous villain in the west is dead.” 

“ And?” 

“ Despite being hated by people like you and I, Frank was loved by many men who aren’t, like you and I. You had Bill and Mrs. Mary when you were at your lowest... Well, people with a rather shaky past, had Frank. He showed them family and trust when no one else would turn their heads. Frank was my daddy, for a while that is. I know him... and the people that loved him.” Whitey started to grow more concerned with every slight shift in the way he delivered his words.

“ Frank’ll always have someone that loved him. Me. But... differently, more in a sense of revenge.” Whitey swallowed in the subtle worry in his onyx eyes.” _Mr_ -“ 

“ So it should be me, Roy Goode, the man who died when Frank shot me back in a draw.” 

The room fell silent for a few hundred flaps of a hummingbird’s wing. And then, finally, Whitey spoke.” I _can’t_. I’m the one who shot Frank. It’s on me.” The older man shook his head.” I can’t ask that of you. Listen, while I keep my head low, I need you to do the same... okay? Just for a little while longer, Whitey.” Maggie smiled then, letting out a small chuckle.” Maybe if you behave, I’ll let you retell the story again.” 

Whitey pressed a thumb to swipe at the bottom of his nose.” That is indeed temptin’. Alright... a little while longer.” 

“ No talkin’ to strangers either. We don’t know who those people could be either.” 

“ Yeah yeah.” 

Glancing down at his slightly worn cowboy hat, Whitey could feel a soft smile grace his face at the strength he had with it. This symbolized the hardships and highs he’s been through...

The first day he wore it was when he rode on his daddy’s horse for the first time. The old man grew amused by the toddler in his lap’s ambition to snatch the apparel, and so, put the large hat on his head. The leather was so heavy on the boy the the boy nearly fell forward to meet the butt of his father’s saddle. Hearing that laughter from his father, remembering a fuzzy line:

" _Don’t worry. You’ll grow into it_."

Throughout the years, his father started to grow used to calling it " _their_ " hat. It was really worn everywhere with Whitey. Though it never really fit him. When he was younger, he was always stumbling over himself and such. 

It didn’t even fit the day his dad went into the mine. 

But... finding his daddy’s eyes blankly staring at the darkness at the end of the tunnel, Whitey felt something inside of him break, 

Nay... 

Shatter. 

The love of his father was something he didn’t know he depended on so unbelievably much up until that... hellish moment. Having him... not here, it- scared him. It scared him more than the dust-storms at the age of three... or the size of a rattler’s fang. 

“ Dad...”

...

“ Dad.” 

...

“  _Daddy_...”

Collapsing to his suddenly weak knees, he simply head the man close. He couldn’t give a damn for those watching him, he sobbed,  wailed  over his daddy’s silent heart. Someday, someday his dad said, that hat would fit him. But he’d never get to see it. Never. 

Never.

He was distantly aware of Maggie’s arms wrapping around him, silently muttering reassuring words. After a few more, Whitey finally stood up, a fist violently clenching his father’s hat. 

Walking out of that damned mine with the most confusing sense of numbness... he limped over towards a grief stricken Sadie, staring down at his father’s hat for a few moments. The tears that he shed from the mine stood out against the soot that was smothered across his face. Letting out a soft frown, Whitey slowly smoothed back his hair, letting the hat fall onto his scalp. 

It _still_ didn’t fit—

“ Whitey.”

Whitey snapped out of his dazed state of mind to stare into Maggie’s austere eyes.” You alright?” She questioned nonchalantly, making the blond grin with that same intoxicating confidence.” Never better.” 

“ See you ‘round Whitey!” A perky Louise hollered from a distance, giving Whitey a grin that made his face grimace slightly. He didn’t know what happened to him as of late, he just... isn’t rather romantic with women. Perhaps it’s the predicament of his current situation, but nevertheless, Whitey was happy to have Louise here. 

Even if he didn’t feel those same feelings towards her as she may towards him. 

He remembered the kiss. At the time, it was thrilling. As if he was on top of the world, and then it started to sink in... the feeling. Especially on his leave. Louise was beautiful, absolutely stunning, yes, but all the same... it just, didn’t mean all that much to Whitey after a while. 

But she was here, and she was safe. 

That’s what mattered the most to him. 

Waving goodbye in the form of a tip of his hat, he waltzed avidly into the saloon he grew to love.” Howdy.” He chirped to the new bartender, who happened to be a woman he knew from... 

Oh. 

The German beaut.

At least she’s wearing clothes this time... He thought to himself. 

Taking a seat at the bar, he pointed towards one of the stronger beverages he’d gotten to know in celebration of the literal end of Frank Griffin. 

“ bist du allein?” The woman puzzled softly, making Whitey huff.” Sorry ma’am, I don’t speak-“ 

“ No... he is not.” 

Whitey was startled slightly by a voice he hadn’t ever heard before approached the bar from the back of the tables. The distant piano playing alongside the few woman laughing, caused an aesthetic to the situation. The deputy turned his head fully to see a man, his age, with a soft stubble around his lips and cheeks. Hair a dark brown, and eyes copper. He wore a rather dressy suit, maybe he too was a reporter? A freelancer perhaps. Nonetheless, he watched in awe as the cowboy started to speak actual German to the woman, he blinked in surprised. The man was educated. 

“ Ich würde gerne ...” The man then pointed to the same drink that Whitey had requested, making the blond chuckle playfully.” Sure you can handle this? You could call it rattlejuice and I’d believe you.” 

“ I’m sure. Believe me, down in New York, I was a champion drinker. Every bet, I got my fair share of a brave dollar.” He spoke with a soft shrug, making the deputy watch with slight amazement as the man sent the shot comfortably down his throat. Letting out a small holler, he passed the empty glass back to the woman behind the bar with a glance in the blond’s direction.” Tell me, where’s that sheriff of yours?” Whitey’s eyes narrowed slightly in thought, his back gently hitting the knee of the bar.

“ I dunno. Last I heard, he took a camping trip with his family. I can’t blame ‘em. I’d wanna get from town after what came down last week.” He muttered softly, breath fanning the edge of his drink. The mysterious man seemed to become suddenly hooked on conversation.” Yeah? I saw a lot of people working on the town. I just figured that it was an accident.” Whitey let out a dry laugh.” Sure. An accident. The accident was lettin’ that damn reporter come here. Led Frank Griffin to be knockin’ on our door.” 

The stranger was now completely focused, staying silent for a second before his eyes trailed to the man’s light pockets. Letting out a huff, he beckoned the woman to pour him another glass.” A man of the law. You deserve a drink, on me.” He spoke warmly, scooting slightly closer. Whitey couldn’t resist.” Well... if your buyin’ it’d be rather prude to resist.” The brunet grinned softly.” There’s the spirit.” 

After half an hour of rambling, and constant dependence on the same drink, he grew rather... loose in conversation. The stranger’s conversation started to subtly shift with every drink. It came from talking about how adorable the deputy’s horse was, to why the town was in condition it was in. 

“ Fr’nk. Bastard, he burnt the place up l’ke mama’s bacon on a Sund’y.” Whitey hiccuped, making the man visibly tense at the name.” Oh wow. Who’s that?” The blond growled at the question.” An ass.” 

“ What did he do, where is he?” 

Whitey glanced over at the man with a dazed expression, letting out a soft shrug.” I ain’t tellin’ a man I don’t know nothin’.” He grinned softly, making the educated man thin his lips to a line, before reluctantly speaking.

“ _Wayne_. Wayne Henry.” 

“ Nice..” 

“ Now.” The man placed a hand to clasp the drunk’s shoulder.” Now that I’ve told you my name, can you tell me where this... Frank individual ran off to?” Whitey nodded, about to speak before he was interrupted by the harsh sway of the saloon doors.” Whitey! Are you seriously this drunk on your first day outta bed?” Truckee questioned with shock, coming to pull him from the barstool.” Get on your horse. You’re comin’ to the ranch with me. Ma said. She said she’s makin’ breakfast tomorrow.” 

“ Nah. I don’t have a bedtime.” 

“ _Whitey_...” 

“ Fine.” The blond whined, walking towards the door, making the man at the bar curse silently.” Hey! You didn’t tell me your name.” 

“ Name’s Whitey Winn. ‘Cause that’s all I d-“ 

“ Whitey. Bed.” 

“ _Yessir_...” 

The stranger flushed softly at the the man’s delivery on the line, letting out a small chuckle.” Whitey.” Taking another drink, Wayne pictured a familiar face through the comfort of his alcohol.” Don’t worry, Frank. I’ll kill the son of a bitch who shot you dead... whether it was Roy, or that worthless sheriff.”

“ _I’ll make ‘em pay._ ” 

“ Evenin’ Whitey. Don’t stick up the farmhouse too much.” Alice pitched, giving the boy a soft grin, making the blond shake his head.” No ma’am. I’ll be well behaved... thank you for givin’ me a place to stay.” He spoke, knowing that he would’ve slept outside the jailhouse if he didn’t have this. Unfortunately, his house had burned down after a rather hateful twin blew it up. Maggie was understanding enough to give the other folks that had the same problem he did shelter. 

Alice nodded her head.” You know you can stay for as long as you need Whitey.” The deputy nodded, hesitating before speaking up.” Have you heard from Bill?” The woman’s eyes grew more solemn at the name.” Last I heard, he took his family down to the mesas to get away.” Now Whitey was fibbing when the curious stranger kept asking him about Bill. But he was shocked to realize that he wasn’t too far off. Outlining his upper lip with his tongue, he grimaced softly.” Right. Thank you Mrs. Fletcher.” The woman placed a hand to his shoulder.” Go get some rest. I’m sure you have a lot on your mind.”

“ Yes ma’am. I plan to get some work done around the jailhouse tomorrow.”

“ Can I help you?” Asked a nervous Truckee, making the deputy grin.” I could use the extra pair of hands. That’d be mighty kind of you Truckee.” The smaller boy beamed lightly, mouthing a soft "Goodnight" before going to his bed. Whitey was however abruptly aware of a missing man.” Where’s Mr. Goode?” 

Alice visibly flushed at the name, letting out a soft laugh.” He and Iyovi went out for some evening hunting. Needless to say with the two working together, we’ll have full bellies tomorrow.” 

“ Right on. I’ll see you in the morning Mrs. Fletcher.” He grinned, tipping his hat to the woman, before staggering to the blanketed hay pile in the corner of the farmhouse. 

There, simply staring out over at the ceiling, his mind started to relax. He couldn’t help but smile at the compassion he was granted. It was a relieving feeling, to have the world slow, break back down to routine. Pressing a hand to his healing chest, Whitey heard a proud and wild heart beating with confidence. 

_Whitey was free_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dylmas Dylmas Dylmas DYLMASSS—
> 
> Also yes, Whitey Truckee bonding time, cause they’re two babies and deserve everything.

**Author's Note:**

> This is now just me making a season two of Godless now lol, I love whoever reads this so much ♥︎... and, yes. We will see a Dylan in chapter two :3c, I just had to let Whitey have the ending deserved. No hate towards canon, but- my man deserves the world. So- fuck, everything, about, episode, seven. <3


End file.
